


The Love Of The Week

by Humanlighthouse



Category: Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, wellenore - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:08:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14455839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanlighthouse/pseuds/Humanlighthouse
Summary: When she realizes how much she has impacted Guy's life during their short time together, Lenore decides to make it her official job: be The Love Of The Week! For a perfectly reasonable price, you too can come live with her and learn how to be a functional human being again! No more wacky sleep schedule, regular exercise, an introduction to healthy cooking, all the basics of dressing attractively, and a free makeover guaranteed in the program. What she doesn't expect is for their friends to send in HG as her first client, a severely sleep-deprived, obsessive young inventor who, it turns out, has as much to offer her as she does him.





	The Love Of The Week

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! The idea for this fic came to me while I was in the shower and I don't think I've ever washed my hair so fast lol I literally ran out of the bathroom to type this. I have absolutely zero idea of where I'm going with this, except for little more than the summary, so I don't know how many chapters this will have, or how often I'll be able to update. This is un-betaed as of yet too, because I wanted to surprise my Official Beta™ @a_ufo_party with it! I hope you like it :)

It all started after Guy’s death.

Lenore had been so heartbroken she might as well have died along with him. She didn’t come out of their appartment for entire weeks. She was lucky the appartment was so big but even then, she mostly kept to her bedroom – no, to her bed.

She didn’t even sleep. She just stared at the wall in silence, words and memories floating through her mind. Some days, the memories felt so real she could swear he was in bed with her, holding her while she cried.  

Those were the good days.

The bad days passed her by, hidden behind the dark cloud that filled her mind to the brim. In pain, alone, she forgot time and space and lived in a past that was merry and bright and everything the present could never be again.

In time, however, her friends decided that it was time for her grief to be channeled in a more positive way and scheduled an intervention of sorts. Annabel took her out for coffee in the morning. Edgar took her bookshopping at noon. Oscar ate lunch with her and took her actual-shopping. George offered to take her running at sunset but she had to decline, as politely as she could.

Ernest took her drinking that same night, which was definitely her favorite part of the day. She wore her brand new dress and didn’t pay for a single glass of alcohol that night, falling asleep upside down on Ernest’s couch. She didn’t dream. She didn’t think. It was perfect.  

The next day, too hungover to be sad, she watched coffee drip through the filter, remembering her walk of shame back to the appartment. Her shoes were on the table where she had dropped them, her dress in the middle of the floor where she had taken it off, and her bra still hooked to the bathroom doorknob where she had almost strangled herself in her hurry to wash the grime of the night off of her skin.

Feeling suddenly inspired, she sprang up from the chair, swayed in place for a second seeing stars, and, when she could see again, got to work. First, she popped some painkillers for the headache and gathered the laundry – a small basket of it, all in all, because she had barely changed out of her pajamas during the last weeks – and put it in the washer. Next, she washed the dishes, cleaned the table and vacuumed the floor. When the washer pinged, she hung her clothes, smushing her face in the clean pile of fresh laundry and inhaling deeply. On a whim, she filled a bucket with that pine scented detergent that had been gathering dust in the closet, and moped the floor.

By now, her coffee was cold and she was sweating buckets, but the appartment had never been cleaner. Taking a clean glass from the dish pile, she filled it with ice and poured the coffee in it with some milk. The kitchen window let in the rays of a warm afternoon sun as she finally sat back, drinking slowly.

In the light, without the mess, the absence was more obvious.

Eddie had been by the first week to pick up his brother’s stuff, but she had barely noticed, too caught up in her own grief to care for his. He had been polite and quick, out of her hair in less than an hour, and she had forgotten about it until now.

This was where his client files had been stored. Here, what little books he’d owned. His knick-knacks were gone. Gone too was his guitar. His side of the wardrobe was empty. So was his shelf in the bathroom. Every trace of him has been wiped out, except for a few pictures, her engagement ring, and the beautiful wedding dress he had bought her. All that had belong to him was gone, gone as if he had never existed outside of her mind.

Lenore stared ahead, as she had been doing for weeks, stared ahead as if she wanted to move forward, to move on, but was desperately stuck in place.

A single tear escaped, rolling down her cheek and bouncing off her upper lip in an almost cheerful way. She didn’t even feel sad anymore. She wasn’t shaking, she wasn’t sniffling, she wasn’t really crying, even though she was. The tears washed her head of the remaining pain, laving softly at her heart until it wasn’t bleeding anymore.

So she cried and cried and cried, coffee turned lukewarm and forgotten again, until night had fallen and a hush fell over the town. In the quiet of this summer night, she shook her head and promised herself that she would move on at last.

Before she could chicken out, she texted Annabel and scheduled another coffee date for the next day.

Having dried her face and blown her nose, she went in search of dinner. The fridge was as desperately empty as it had been for the last few weeks. Sighing, she picked up the phone and speed-dialled the Chinese place downtown.

One day at a time, right?

 

 


End file.
